by Debbie Burns
“For sure your keys are. I saw them.” Before she realized she was doing it, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Be safe.” Certain her face betrayed the easygoing demeanor she hoped to portray, she flushed tomato-red. She could feel the heat of it lighting her skin. She hadn’t realized till now how good he smelled—subtle but enticing, the scent warring with the earthy smell of the floodwater.
His hazel-green eyes locked on hers for a single second, then he turned and took off down the yard, leaving Olivia to unwind the rope and pivot it around a relatively young but sturdy-looking tree not far out of the water.
“Water’s damn cold for late March,” Gabe said when he was a few feet in. The brown water parted around his legs, rippling in a heart-shaped wave and forming soft bubbles against his jeans.
A large, floating branch struck the shed with a solid whack, bounced against it for a few seconds, then was swept away by the water. Olivia hoped the metal fence of the pen was concreted into the ground. Maybe it was because it was an open mesh fence rather than a solid wood surface, but at the moment, it seemed to be more stable than the shed it was attached to.
She wanted to keep watching, but Gabe was pushing through the water fast enough that she needed to focus on unwinding the rope and providing him with the right amount of slack. Just over her shoulder, the girl was mumbling “Oh God, what if the water sweeps him away?” more to herself than to her boyfriend or to Olivia.
The tension mounting inside Olivia quadrupled on hearing the girl’s expressed fear. She blurted out the first question that came to mind in hopes of suppressing it. “Do you two know who lives here?”
“No idea,” the boy spat out. “We just wanted to check out the flooding. We spotted the dog on our way back. We were down the road a way. It’s a trip, man. The river access—the whole parking lot—is swallowed up by water.” He pulled out his phone and started filming again.
“I kind of get the feeling nobody lives here,” the girl added. She dropped her voice and shot a glance back toward the house. “The front yard already looks like a flood ripped through here.”
Olivia was inclined to agree with her.
A glance at Gabe showed he was fifteen or twenty feet in, and the water was already over his knees. He still had a long way to go before he reached the dog. As a rush of fear pressed over her, all Olivia could think to do was pray harder than she’d prayed in a long time.
Chapter 5
It wasn’t a good time for Gabe to think about the ridiculous fear he’d had as a kid of rivers and brown, murky water. Wasn’t a good time to think how, at ten or eleven years old, obnoxious little Susan Drier—who’d lived two blocks away and ridden the same bus—had insisted that everyone’s biggest fear was a foreshadowing of how they were going to die.
The rushing water was sharply cold, forty-five or fifty degrees at most. Each new inch of skin experienced the shock of it as he headed in deeper. When the water hit his groin, he suspected his balls wouldn’t descend again until July. Worse than the cold was the sweeping pressure of it. Gabe felt like a leaf caught in the runoff along a storm drain. If he lost his footing, he’d be swept ten feet before he could even react.
Then, too, there was the debris in the water bumping into him every few feet: sticks mostly, odd pieces of litter, and, from the way it seemed to react with a will of its own rather than just bounce off him, one sizable fish. The bolt cutters were shoved in the back of his jeans, but he had the ax at the ready. Ready for what? The fact was he’d seen entirely too many episodes of River Monsters a few years back.
He was in deep enough that the water was starting to swirl around his hips when he caught a glimpse of a hollow, plastic doll head bobbing up and down a body length ahead of him. The once-golden hair was knotted with debris, and the lifeless eyes sent a deep chill up his spine. Then the head was swallowed by the water so fast that Gabe had to wonder if he’d seen it at all.
“Come on, man, get it together.”
It was the dog that kept him moving forward. The terrified thing had stopped baying and was watching from the far corner of the pen where he was still teetering on top of the doghouse. Gabe was willing to bet it was only a matter of seconds before the unstable house toppled over. The water surrounding it was high enough that the only thing keeping the doghouse upright was being held in place by the fence it was pressing against.
A glance behind him showed Gabe he’d progressed farther than he would have thought. Olivia was feeding the rope one wrap at a time, her wavy red hair, long, lean body, and bright-blue jacket reminding him of a brilliantly colored bird in a field of dull brown and faded green. She and the two kids were fifty or sixty feet away now, but with the rush of the water filling his ears, they could’ve been a quarter mile away instead. Soaked as he was from the river and the soft, incessant rain, the small circle of skin where she’d pressed those remarkable lips of hers against his cheek still tingled.
He should’ve said something, a thanks at the very least, but he hadn’t. He’d clammed up and headed into the water like the crotchety old man Yun threatened he was on the path to becoming.
It had been a good-luck kiss, that was all. There was something in her eyes though. Something more than just wishing a near-stranger to be safe. A connection—a knowing—he’d not felt since Claire. “This is right, pursue this,” his body seemed to be saying, something it hadn’t communicated in years.
Considering the way things had ended with Claire, he’d been pretty determined not to listen the next time his body attempted to do the talking for him. It had taken long enough to get over her when she’d walked away. They’d met at a gala fund-raiser for his firehouse that he’d been talked into attending at the last minute by his captain. She’d looked like Cinderella on the night of her ball, and she’d wanted him. Unequivocally.
She’d come at the urging of her parents after a tumultuous breakup. Rather than having her head turned by one of the eligible bachelors in attendance as they’d hoped, she’d homed in on him. He’d not been introduced to her parents that night, but from getting to know them later, Gabe had no doubt of the looks they’d exchanged when Claire told them she was getting her own ride home.
She’d only been out of college a few months and had still been living with them. He’d parked in the circular drive in front of the remarkable home in a part of the county where he’d never been and figured ten or more of his parents’ house would fit inside.
“It’s just a house,” she’d said, seeing the direction of his gaze and picking up on the quiet that swept over him. “Just a facade. The only real thing is the little bubble of space right around you. It’s the only thing that matters.”
He’d been thinking about kissing her but had decided when he pulled up that he was better off just letting her get out and forgetting her. A voice inside him—probably his father’s—made it clear that a girl like her would have a vision for her life that didn’t include him. Then she’d said that bit about the bubble and thrown him off. He asked her what she meant, and instead of answering, she leaned over the seat of his truck and brushed her lips against his. “You have a nice face, Gabe Wentworth. And really good lips.” She gave him her number and waggled her pinkie in front of him till he locked his finger with hers and promised he’d give her a call.
The next two years were work and Claire and dating and an engagement. Then he headed into a beast of a fire and nearly lost his life and found Samson in one fell swoop. And when he couldn’t pick himself up—when he couldn’t be the man who walked into fires again—Claire walked away.
Even stepping cautiously through the water as he was, Gabe kicked a rock protruding from the ground, and just that slightest bit of variation in stride had the torrent of water threatening to topple him. He got his balance, stepped carefully around the rock, and pressed on along the uneven ground.
Claire’s walking away hadn’t only been becaus
e of him. By then the phase that had led her onto a path of mindfulness and minimalist living was over, and she wanted a bigger life than he’d be able to give her.
He’d loved her and her eccentricities, and he would have tried to work through anything, but the life he was living now was more authentically him than the life he’d shared with her. He’d been the square peg that had never been to Florence or Montenegro or Santiago, and he didn’t grow up golfing or attending polo matches. All those things she’d loved about him at first, she’d been growing to resent.
The truth was that for the last several years, he’d been happier without her than he’d ever been trying to fit in with her family.
Gabe was midstep when the dog tumbled into the murky water. After creating a splash that reached all the way over to him, the hound disappeared underneath the water. Gabe was moving through water deep enough that it reached the top of his jeans, and every step was an effort to stay on track to the pen. He pressed forward, holding his breath for the dog to reappear. He was navigating around a dip in the ground when he was pulled to a halt from behind. He turned to see that Olivia was out of rope. She was holding onto the end, shaking her head helplessly. The rope was wrapped around the tree and stretched out as far as it could go. He still had another eight or ten feet till he reached the pen.
And without the tree as a brace, if he lost his balance, he’d sweep Olivia off her feet and into the water in a fraction of a second. And that was without the added weight of the dog in his arms.
Gabe searched the flooded pen again, hoping to find that the dog had resurfaced. Relief swept over him when the dog’s face popped above water and he began to tread frantically. The rushing water was stronger than the dog’s paddling strength, and in the space of a second or two, the terrified animal was swept against the fence. As much effort as the animal was extending to stay above water, it was obviously something he wouldn’t be able to maintain long.
Barely conscious he’d made the decision to do it, Gabe yanked at the knot on the rope till it released and tugged it free of his belt loops. He heard Olivia yell in protest, but the rush of the water was too loud to make out her words.
Adrenaline propelled him through the water the last of the way to the pen. Grabbing onto metal fencing, he traveled along the side to the door and felt for the submerged latch. Perhaps the water had been lower when the kids first came by, but they’d been right about the pen being locked. A medium-weight chain was wrapped around the latch and secured with a dead bolt.
Lifting the chain as high as it would go, Gabe twisted it so the rusted dead bolt was just above water. He wasted precious seconds whacking it with his ax but couldn’t get the momentum to break it free while holding it. Realizing it was a fruitless effort, he tucked the ax into his jeans and yanked free the bolt cutters. He needed both hands to work the cutters and therefore had to cut through the chain while it was underwater. The cutters were crap, and Gabe struggled to get a strong enough hold on the chain. Finally, it broke and he was able to yank it free and pull open the door.
The dog was struggling to stay afloat, dipping below water and popping his head into the air for a few seconds before disappearing again. A stainless-steel bowl clanked and bounced in the water against the fence, sounding a bit like a wind chime. Gabe allowed the rush of the water to sweep him inside. The current seemed to double in strength as the water pressed around the side of the shed. No wonder the dog hadn’t been able to break away from the current to try for the doghouse roof again. It was all Gabe could do to lock his arms and legs against the fence as he was swept into it so as not to smash against the dog.
Even over the rush of the water, an eerie groan resounded through the air, reminding Gabe of the humanlike hisses he’d heard emanating from planks and boards as they succumbed to fire. It wouldn’t be long before the shed collapsed under the weight of the rushing water, and there was a good chance of it taking the whole pen with it.
Determined not to be inside when it did, Gabe hoisted one arm underneath the long-eared dog who’d not only noticed him but was attempting to climb onto his shoulders. Once Gabe had hold of him, he flipped around, collapsing against the fence as the floodwater swept past them.
The dog was a big, gangly, long-legged pointer and awkward to hold under perfect conditions. Soaked and slippery and shaking as the animal was, Gabe struggled to find a position in which he could carry him across the water without losing his grip. Even in the chaos, it struck him how underweight the dog was. The ridges of his ribs stuck out like the keys on an accordion.
As soon as Gabe had a decent enough hold, he pushed off. To get out, he needed to head straight into the current. Doing so reminded him of a winter trip to Chicago a couple years back, being at the intersection of Michigan and Oak and walking into the wind and moving absolutely nowhere. The dog whined in his ear but held still. Thankfully. Considering the effort he was spending just to move through the water, Gabe would have a hard time keeping the hound in his arms if he didn’t.
“Easy, boy. Gonna get you out of here in no time.” He kept his voice low and soft and kept talking, certain the dog was listening. “Get you to solid ground and then maybe swing by a drive-through and pick you up a nice, juicy burger. Something tells me you may not have had the luxury of a decent burger that many times.”
The solid weight of the dog combined with the head-on rush of the floodwater had Gabe’s muscles burning by the time he cleared the pen door. Relief swept over him once he turned toward the house and was able to walk perpendicular to the current again. The ax and cutters were no longer digging into his back, and Gabe suspected he’d lost them in the water.
Ahead, on the bank of the yard, Olivia had waded in as deep as her knees and was watching him with hands clamped over her mouth. He was too focused on moving through the water to take much notice of the teens hovering behind her at the water’s edge.
“I’ve got it. Just stay put.” He yelled but wasn’t sure if she could hear him. Out here, he certainly couldn’t hear her.
Aside from shivering in fear, the dog was quiet in his arms. The frightened animal was frozen in place and curled toward his chest, one paw over his shoulder and his long snout wrapped around his neck in a pseudo embrace.
When Gabe was halfway between the pen and the edge of the water, Olivia bolted forward, screaming and pointing ahead in the current. Gabe craned his head over top of the dog to spy a massive branch tumbling his way. Without a doubt, it was sizable enough to take him out. And in water this deep, he didn’t have time to outrun it.
Just before it hit, he turned to block the dog from the blow, afraid the animal’s dangling back legs might otherwise be crushed. Gabe’s lower back took the brunt as the floating mass slammed against him. A shock wave of pain raced up and down his spine as he was knocked into the water. The thick branch tumbled over him, a dozen twigs and offshoots tugging at his clothes and gripping hold of him like a thousand barbed tines. The branch dragged him along underneath the surface of the water. The slim life vest that ran down his chest and torso pressed up against him, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the weight of the branch keeping him submerged.
To overcome his body’s natural inclination to suck in air, he locked down his fear and focused on releasing the air in his lungs in a slow, controlled stream. The terrified dog fought to free himself, and Gabe released him, knowing the animal had a better chance if he did. Seconds ticked by as Gabe struggled to be free of the deathly embrace of the branches. He was being dragged along and running out of air. He fought to reach underneath the giant limb and tear away at the branches entangled in the back of his shirt.
The craving in his lungs for his next intake of breath was more intense than anything he’d experienced in the densest of smoke-filled buildings in a stifling fire mask. The pressure in his head became so intense that he could hear a roaring buzz in his ears and knew he was close to passing out or involuntarily suck
ing in a breath of water.
He was losing focus when something knocked into one side of the branch, dragging the bulky thing down his back and yanking it free from him.
Jutting up, he gulped in air and floated downstream for another few seconds as his head cleared. The massive branch had struck a tree and was now floating sideways beside him, seeming far more benign that it had a moment ago.
Once his head cleared, Gabe swam toward the bank. He’d been swept downstream enough that the house was blocked from view by a strip of trees at the water’s edge. When he got close enough in, he stood and finished exiting at a walk. As the adrenaline began to wane, pain tore across his back and exhaustion slipped into his spent muscles.
Movement in the far edge of the tree line drew his attention as he sloshed out of the water. It was Olivia, weaving between the trees.
“Gabe! Oh my God, I thought… I thought you were swept away.” She was running toward him, and now that he was out of the roar of the water, he could hear the sloshing noises from her shoes and drenched jacket. She was soaked, completely. Water streamed from her hair and off her clothes. She didn’t stop running until she reached him and all but jumped into his arms. “Oh my God, I thought you were gone.”
She was shaking wildly. Gabe allowed his arms to lock around her waist. He held her against him as he caught his breath. The life vest acted as a blockade above the navel, making her hips and thighs and arms stand out more acutely as they pressed against him, enticing and yielding, the only seemingly real thing in the world for too short a time.
She pulled away half a minute later, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks as if they were the only wet parts of her. “Are you hurt?”
As the adrenaline wore off, the scratches on his back were burning, and his spine felt somewhere between hot and numb from the direct smack by the branch. He’d probably feel it even more tomorrow than he did now. “I’m fine,” he said aloud. “Thanks to that tree. What about the dog? Did he make it out?”
